Gerald Simmons - Phlebotomist
This piece was written during the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti on January 12, 2010.
Flesh and bones yield to concrete, twisted metal and rubble, which becomes its tomb. Water unfit for consumption quenches the lips of a bruised bodied child. Eyes piercing as the mind tries to absorb, that the earth shook and the homes came down, as the soul weighs heavy from the mass devastation. The rocks cry out as the night falls and blankets the people of Haiti.
Old Negro spiritual how does it feel when you came out? The wilderness rings in the hearts of those in hope for some understanding of how their God can shine darkness and not light upon their faces. Hold on my children of Haiti when there is nothing to grasp but hope. Hold on my children of Haiti when death ring in your ears as a mother cries and gives comfort to her dying child for it won’t be long before we all shall cry out.
“Father into your hands I commit my spirit”
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